


The Missing Piece: Pt II: The Desk

by Lady Clytemnestra (Lady_Clytemnestra)



Series: The Missing Piece [2]
Category: Law & Order: SVU, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Dominance, F/F, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:23:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Clytemnestra/pseuds/Lady%20Clytemnestra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More frisky fun with two gorgeous women. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Missing Piece: Pt II: The Desk

 

     “...and I was thinking that we could visit the holodeck, maybe take a sail on Lake George.”   
He is ever persistent. The doors to my ready room hiss shut behind us and I make my way to my desk.  
“Chakotay, it's just not a good time. I have a lot of paperwork to do, Olivia still has to get acclimated,” I say, feeling him tense behind me, “and reviews are coming up in less than a week.” I sit in my desk chair.

“Right,” he replies, visibly hurt. “The duty rosters for the next few weeks.” He hands me a PADD.

“Thank you. I'll look them over once I ahh! Haa!” Something bit me. I look under my desk, the culprit's brown eyes glinting in the shadows.

Chakotay takes a step forward just as Olivia runs her toned hand up my thigh.

“No!” They both stop. I clear my throat. “I'll look them over once I finish going over B'Elanna's re-- _**port!**_ ” I slap my palm on the desktop. Those dainty fingers are caressing, stroking me through my pants, not to be deterred this time. “Dismissed!” It comes out as a yelp. He furrows his brow, clenches his jaw, nods, and finally leaves.

I slide my chair back, reach under the desk for her only to have her take my index finger in her mouth, suckling it gently, humming.

“Oh...” my breath catches when I take in what she's wearing: a black satin bra and panty set. She lets my finger go, crawls out from under the desk and kneels in front of the chair. 

“It's not the bridge, but...” She trails off, unfastens my pants, her intention clear. I still her hands and stand, pulling her up with me. She's playing coy. I like coy.

I circle her, taking in her form. Barefoot, she is much closer to my height. My fingers find the spot just below the swell of her buttock, where it meets the thigh, eliciting a sigh from her. She stands perfectly still, hands at her sides. She wants me to take her. I don't need any more invitation. One hand on the back of her neck, I bend her over my desk roughly. She gasps, sighs, shudders. I kick her feet apart, rake my nails down her back and bring my hand down on her perfect rear. She squeaks. I wonder if I've gone too far, then I notice her sultry smile, the heat coming from her core.  
“You could have gotten me into very big trouble,” I growl. “A court martial, time in the brig, mutiny...” I slap her backside again. She's panting now. Slipping my fingers under the fabric over her reddened cheek, I can feel her toned flank rippling, smell her arousal. She's magnificent. 

“What do you think I should do with you?” I ask, my hand leaving the back of her neck to gather her long hair. “Hmm?”

“Whatever you want, Captain.”

Oh, God. Those words in that voice... it's enough to make a woman go mad. I manage to stifle a groan, maintain control.

“Really.” I can hear how much deeper my voice is getting, the only tell of my own state. I pull back on her hair a bit, lifting her cheek off the desktop and bring my lips to her ear. “I'm going to take you over my desk. And when I'm finished...” I pause, slap her behind again. “You won't be able to walk.”

She moans, presses her palms flat against the desk. 

I let her hair go, yank the panties down to her knees, step back to admire the view. She's more than ready, her lower lips swollen and dripping. A fleeting thought runs across my mind: Anyone could walk through that door and see us this way, Olivia exposed and at my mercy, their captain behind her, flushed and panting. It only serves to increase my arousal. I can't keep my hands off her much longer.

She moans again, pinches her nipples and sighs, “Captain...”

It is my undoing. With three fingers I thrust into her, her hips buck and she presses her backside to me. 

“Say it,” I command, refusing to give her what she wants until she follows orders. 

She shakes her head.   
I bring my hand down on her backside again, make her cry out.

“Say it.”

She won't.

“No?” I grab a handful of her hair, pull, and push my fingers deeper.

“Oh! Captain, please...” She's panting, bucking her hips, trying to get me to move in and out of her. I pull a little harder.

“Say it, Olivia.” 

It leaves her in a throaty groan, a plea.

“Fuck me.” 

I release her hair, draw my fingers back to the tip, then bury them inside her, over and over, her sex quivering around them like my heartstrings. 

She bites down on her forearm, attempting to quiet the sounds that escape her. One long moment stretches between us, caught in that instant between bliss and insanity, and she clenches around my fingers, wails my name.   
  
I continue to stroke her, building her up again, but my turn as the dominant is over. She straightens, whirls round and gets my pants around my waist, sits me in my chair and kneels in front of me. Moving my panties aside, she pulls my hips to the edge of the seat so that I am barely perched and laves my sex with her pink tongue. I hiss, thread my hands in her hair, and she proves yet again that the tongue is, in fact, a very powerful muscle. My head rolls back, my eyes slip closed, and I melt in her mouth.   
“Oh, G-- god....” 

I can feel her smiling, her tongue dancing in my heat, making contented noises and holding my legs open with one hand on the inside of my right thigh. 

“L-- livia... Oh...!”

Her other hand has found my clit, the tip of her finger gently grazing it as though she were polishing a pearl. I'm moaning, my fingers tightening their hold on her curls. She takes her hand from my thigh and arches two fingers up inside me, closes her sculpted lips over my bundle of nerves and I lift my head to meet her eyes. And then she does it. Destroys me, with just one flick of her tongue. My vision blacks out, my body tenses, and I'm at the epicenter of a warp core detonation. Fireworks shatter the darkness, and she is still going. Her tongue is still on me, driving me higher still, and I don't think I'll survive another climax. She adds a third finger and I'm trying to pull her head up by her hair. She lifts her mouth from me and she has a “cat got the cream” grin painted all over her face. She's still pumping me, I'm breaking all over again, and she whispers one word.

“Kathryn...”

 

* * *

 

     We're on the couch now, her head on my chest. Fingers laced together with those of her right hand, I'm trying to remember the last time I felt this safe. It's been years.

“Kathryn,” she calls, her voice like honey.

“Mm?”

“What would you have done...” She trails off again, sits up. There's a gleam in her eye, like the one she had under my desk. I brace myself.

“If?”

“... if I'd pulled out a strap-on?”

 


End file.
